Description : The Billionaire and the Virgin
Marjorie Ivarsson adjusted the bow on her behind and craned her neck, trying to look in the mirror at the back of her dress. “How is this?”
“Fucking awful,” said the redhead next to her in a similar dress. “We look more like cupcakes than bridesmaids.”
“Do you guys really hate the dresses?” Brontë asked, wringing her hands as the women lined up and studied their reflections in the mirrors.
“Not at all,” said Audrey, who Marjorie knew was the extremely pregnant, nice one. Audrey elbowed the not-as-nice redhead next to her, who was her sister. “I think they’re lovely dresses. And you do too.”
“No, I don’t—”
Again, she elbowed her sister and turned to Marjorie. “What do you think of the dress, Marj?” Her eyes were and trying to convey a hint that the other woman was just not getting.
“I love it,” Marjorie lied, casting a brilliant smile at Brontë. Truth was, all that red and white made her look a bit like a barber pole with a bow, but Brontë had worked long and hard to pick out dresses and had paid for everything, so how on earth could Marjorie possiblyplain? She’d seen the price tag for this thing. Apparently they’d been custom-made by a fashion designer, and the price of just one dress cost more than Marjorie would make in months. Brontë was spending a lot on her wedding, and Marjorie didn’t want to be the one to kick up a fuss.
So she adjusted the bow on her behind again and nodded....